HO HO HO
by moms5thchild
Summary: Christmas is for friends, especially making new ones.I guess I'm captured by the Christmas spirit. I'll get back to Hate Crimes soon.


HO HO TIME

If Jim was in Indiana right now, his brother's kids would be _pounding_ on the bedroom door and _demanding_ Christie and him get downstairs **NOW**. Presents didn't get opened until everyone was there. Of course, if he was in Connecticut the Sullivan grand kids would be downstairs, surrounded by shredded paper, new toys and making enough noise to drown out the millionth showing of 'It's a Wonderful Life'. Instead, he was here, at his desk, scanning the on-line Times and hoping nobody gets killed before 5 o'clock and he could get out of here unscathed.

"Jimmy," he heard his name before the aroma of turkey hit, "I brought lunch."

"Christie? What are you doing here?" He smiled and crossed the squad room to give his wife a welcoming hug. She was weighed down by bags and boxes that held Christmas dinner.

"I got lonely, so I called the sergeant's desk and found out you weren't busy, basically babysitting the phone, so I decided to bring Christmas to you. Where can I put these things, they're getting heavy."

"Here, giv'em here and I'll take them to interview room one. The table and chairs there are better than the desktops here."

"Hey, Dunbar," Mickey Michaels from bunko stuck his head in the squad room, "I smell food. You holding out on us?"

The nexttwo hours turned into an impromptu party. Besides Jim and Christie, Mickey Michaels from bunko, Dave Cotton from traffic and God only knew how many other members from the skeleton staff at the 8th wandered through interview room one. These were people Jimmy had only met in passing, had never been able to put names to all the voices because he had put most of his considerable concentration on his job. That didn't seem to matter now. Contributions to the meal varied from congee from Wo Hop's to zuccotto balls from Maggiano's to home made rice crispie squares. Jim had no idea who had a guitar there, it was probably from theproperty lock up,but Christmas carols were soon were being played and sung. Whenever the phone rang the whole place went quiet, everyone praying they weren't going to be sent out before the party was done.

"This place is a disaster!" Connie Suarez from robbery said as she surveyed interview room one after the bash. "We are going catch such shit if Fisk finds out. How the hell did we get twenty two of New York's finestwandering throughhere and not kill each other?"

"Dumb luck," Michaels moaned as he started throwing paper plates into a trash bag. "You gonna help, Dunbar?"

"Not yet, I'm gonna hug my wife again." He smiled as he pulled Christie from her chair and unto his lap. "If it wasn't for her, we'd be drinking burnt coffee and eating vending machine sandwiches."

"That's not Christmas, that's hell," Michaels said as he answered his ringing cell phone. "Cripes, I gotta go, seems someone is soliciting funds for 'Toys for Kids' today… except there is no 'Toys for Kids' and if there was, they'd be distributing today. Bye bye all," Michaels thrust the bag at Suarez, but Christie grabbed it.

"Take this Jimmy, and hold it open. I'll help Connie gather the trash."

"No. Connie, can you take this, I want a minute alone with my wife."

"Sure thing, Jimmy," Suarez took the bag, "I don't know where you're goin' find an alone place, but I know you can handle that."

Jim led Christie out of the room and headed to Fisk's office, where he fished out a key to open the door and pulled his wife inside.

"I'm only supposed to be in here if there's an emergency. Can anyone see inside?"

"No. the blinds are closed." Christie squeaked as Jim pulled her close and then, with a move he learned in dance class, twirled her around twice. Then he pulled her tight and lovingly ran the back of his hand down the side of her face. That was when his cell phone rang.

"Damn," he spat out as he reached for the offending item, "Dunbar here."

"Jimmy, its Fisk. I just got word from Dave Cotton that things were really quiet down there. He says he can cover for you from now until Selway gets there at five. So, just leave your phone on and get you and Hank home."

"Thanks will do."

"And make sure there's no evidence of unsanctioned events left in the interview room before you and Christie go. See you on the 27th." Fisk hung up before Jim could day anything.

"Jimmy, what is it?" Christie sounded worried.

"Another Christmas present, Fisk said go home." He let go of his wife, "get the things you brought together and we'll get things ready to roll. There's something I gotta do first."

Jim pulled out his cane and headed to traffic division. He didn't know the building there, knew he'd get lost without his cane.

"Dave, you there," Jim said when he got there.

"Right here, Jim." Cotton's voice called out.

"Get more specific."

"Oh, sorry, I forgot. Turn left, go about three steps and then turn right and straight ahead to me."

"Okay," Jim followed the directions until he was beside Cotton. "Thanks for covering for me."

"Just pray there isn't a five car pile upat Canal and Mulberry; otherwise you'll be back here." Dave snarled a little. "You got a pretty wife there. Go home and treat her right."

"I'll try," Jim turned to leave but stopped. "This was nice, I should have got to know you guys sooner, but with everything so busy I haven't taken the time. I'll make an effort to fix that."

"Good, cause we need another place for our poker games. Cindy Michaels is getting pissed with us going there every other Thursday night. You in?"

Jim smiled, "I'll talk to Christie. If you can take smokeless poker and don't mind her sitting in on a few hands it might happen."

"No way, everybody will be looking at her… chest rather than their cards."

"Sometimes vision is a handicap." Jim smiled as he walked away to the sound of Dave Cotton laughing behind him. This was turning into a good precinct to be in.


End file.
